Cemeteries and changelings.

Took a YA break this week, which was a literal headache: finally read Neil Gaiman's Newbery-winning The Graveyard Book, which calls out to the bloody-minded little girl I was and still am underneath the Responsible Adult costume. And somehow a new Francesca Lia Block, The Waters and the Wild, slipped into the bookstore without my immediate knowledge: I just found it back in Teen whilst merrily compiling a haul for the local juvenile detention center to buy with an annual grant from the also-local bar auxiliary (does that just mean lawyers' wives, still?). I sent 'em much of a muchness, including The Iliad. I'm an FLB fan from way back: along with Juliana Hatfield and boots with skirts, she's the legacy of the late lamented Sassy magazine. Like JH, she's still plugging along making art for the weird girls--while her last title, How to (Un)Cage a Girl, wasn't any great shakes, Waters is glorious, and makes me want to cook with fresh produce and go dancing.